


take your eyes from you

by decidueye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Mirrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4089895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/decidueye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There’s a full length mirror next to the door of Keiji’s bathroom.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>AKA Keiji pines for Bokuto in the form of shameless mirror masturbation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take your eyes from you

**Author's Note:**

> I was disappointed in myself for not writing anything for Fukurodani Week, but at least I managed Akaashi Day. This is Euphoria, right?  
> This is for AJ, again, but I didn't want her to get cocky. Thanks to [jihye](http://archiveofourown.org/users/atharaigas) and [logan](http://archiveofourown.org/keptein) for the beta work and holding my hand, as always.

There’s a full length mirror next to the door of Keiji’s bathroom. He thinks it was his father's installation, but he's never paid that much attention to it before. The mirror stands opposite the shower door, and Keiji’s after-practice showers are long, washing away the exhaustion of training and a little too much human interaction. By the time he’s finished, the mirror is always steamed up, and this time is no different. As he's reaching for a towel, though, the blurred movement of his own arm catches his eye. It's enough to make Keiji pause, and he steps closer for a better look.

He'd had a long shower, and the mirror has mostly steamed up, but there are a few stripes where the moisture from the condensation has begun to trickle down the glass, leaving a sliver of visibility in its wake. Keiji watches one of the droplets fall and then reaches out with the towel he held loosely in his hands. Roughly wiping the mirror down, he positions himself in front of it and breathes slowly, taking in his reflection. The damp from the mirror leaves him blurred in places, but it's the first time he's ever really looked at himself, and the intensity of his own gaze has him grateful for the distortion.

In the light of the bathroom, his eyes seem almost black, and Keiji studies the way his eyelashes fan across hooded eyelids with interest. His dark hair clings to his head, dripping uncomfortably down his nose and the back of his head. Full lips form a frown, and Keiji tips forward, rubbing at his hair with the towel. When he straightens, it’s stuck at odd angles, already beginning to curl slightly. He combs through it with his fingers, pushing it out of his eyes and turning his attention back to his face.

Keiji's jaw is a little more square than it used to be, and his nose a little less snub, but his face is still soft. Keiji angles his head, but the curve of his cheekbones is difficult to identify, highlighted only by his flush from the heat of the shower. His features have none of the sharp distinction that Bokuto's do. Bokuto is all wide cheeks and a pointed jaw, showing off the span of his smile.

Still, Keiji supposes he's attractive in his own way.The team had teased him once: Konoha pinched his cheeks and Bokuto called him "pretty boy", ignoring the reddening behind Keiji's ears when he asked for another toss.

It's hard to stop himself from wondering what Bokuto would say now, if he were here. Would this be enough to make him speechless?

The condensation on the mirror is starting to clear now, and Keiji takes his time drying himself off, pulling his focus away from his face. Volleyball has helped him lose some of the baby fat of his youth, and he notes with surprise that his biceps, though maybe not quite up to standard, are beginning to swell. The rewards of playing setter are starting to show, and Keiji twists to see the movement of his back muscles with satisfaction. Facing front again, Keiji notes that his clavicle is faintly visible beneath the skin, even if his stomach, though close to flat, lacks definition.

He wants to up his physical strength, but he thinks he'll miss the give of his stomach. He spreads a free hand across it, digging his fingers into the flesh. For a second he closes his eyes and imagines a broader, rougher palm and bitten fingernails. Bokuto would love the way Keiji moulded into him, he was sure of it.

He realises with a jolt that he's half hard as he's drying his inner thighs, and the towel falls to the floor with a soft thud. Without really thinking, he turns to the side and cups his balls for a better view of himself. His dick hangs in his hands, unattractive, and Keiji considers that this might be why flaccid penises are never shown in porn videos. The flyaway thought makes him laugh, a startled sound emerging from his throat, and he covers his mouth instinctively with his other hand.

He’s never thought much about his own body and whether it might seem appealing. If he’s considered pretty fully dressed, even in gym clothes that cling uncomfortably when he sweats, would people still call him that if he were exposed like this?  A quick squeeze of his dick has Keiji taking in a sharp breath, warmth pooling in his abdomen.

Keiji runs his fingers through his damp hair, mussing it up as the curls begin to dry. He watches his pupils dilate, toying almost lazily with his balls and leaning back against the shower door. His gaze moves to focus on his lips, already parted, and he huffs a long sigh as he rolls his balls between his fingers. Still squeezing, he moves his thumb to rub gently at the base of his cock, eyelashes fluttering with his breaths.

He examines himself, flushed with arousal at the base of his neck, hips jutted outwards towards the mirror and his hardening dick in his hand. The look in his eyes is intense, calculating, and Keiji finds himself wishing he had the opportunity to turn it on someone else.

He’s jerked off thinking about Bokuto before. When Bokuto teases him, calling him pretty, it sticks in his mind, and Keiji wants him to say it sincerely. In his fantasies, Bokuto is enraptured, the look of heated admiration in his eyes exemplifying everything Keiji finds attractive in him. Bokuto watches Keiji’s face as he works him to completion, and even in his imagination Keiji can’t bring himself to hold that piercing stare. The idea of holding Bokuto’s attention for so long makes Keiji shudder, and Keiji wants Bokuto to take advantage of him, to watch Keiji come undone beneath him with a smug, triumphant grin.

He’s never really thought about what Bokuto would actually _see_ , though. How does Keiji look when he’s aroused? If Bokuto were here, trailing long fingers along Keiji’s dick and rubbing his thumb over the slit, as Keiji begins to do now, what would he see?

Keiji stops to spread his towel across the bathroom floor, lowering himself into a sitting position and resting his back on the shower door. The mirror is low, and when he spreads his legs, knees slightly bent and toes pushing against the tiled wall, he can see everything.

He doesn’t exactly know what a pretty dick would look like, but he supposes his own doesn’t look too bad. The dark skin is tinged pink as it swells, and the flush is spreading slowly across the softness of his abdomen. He’s always been a full bodied blusher; it makes him grateful he doesn’t embarrass easily. His hand moves across his chest, following the trail of pink until he takes a firmer grip on his cock.

Keiji strokes himself with intent, this time, and the response is immediate. He watches his hand, pumping in languid movements, and trying to imagine stronger, paler fingers, until a hitch in his breath brings his attention back to his face. Watching his hand is a reminder that it’s not Bokuto who’s watching him. He wants to see the kind of show he would put on.

Right now, his arousal is barely showing on his face. It takes a while for the flush to reach him there, but his lips are parted, tongue darting out to wet them, and there’s a faint pinkness at the base of his earlobes.

Bokuto would probably have had to have explored him many times to understand the full meaning behind these signs. If it was one of their first times, Bokuto would feel frustrated, doubling his efforts in an attempt to get Keiji to show more of a reaction, and probably getting himself more worked up in the process. Keiji can picture him now, biting his lip in concentration, grunting into Keiji’s shoulder, and it almost makes Keiji laugh.

If he knew, though … Bokuto’s smile would grow slowly in confident realisation, and he’d look at Keiji’s face in wonder. When Keiji grabs his balls again it’s Bokuto that’s rolling them, and he can almost feel the coarseness of Bokuto’s fingers, the crooked spot on his index finger where he broke it. Keiji breathes out as his imagined Bokuto leans in, and he strains to feel the ghost of Bokuto’s breath in his ear when he whispers,

_”You look so good, Akaashi.”_

Keiji bites his lip to keep himself from whining, and it turns white from the pressure. He’s startled to see a glimmer of defiance in his own eyes; is this how he gets when someone is teasing him, even when it’s himself? Keiji inhales, exhales shakily, and begins to tug on his dick again, pulling the foreskin back to coat his fingers in precum, easing the friction on his skin to a gentle pull that makes him hum delicately.

Keiji’s chest has coloured a deep rose now, and he watches it rise and fall with his shallow breathing. He quickens his pace, forcing his eyes to stay open even as they begin to roll back, eyelids quivering, and brings the hand that was gripping the towel beneath him to circle his nipple. He watches himself pinch it in the mirror, gasping softly, head hitting the shower panel behind him. When he blinks, slowly, shakily, he sees Bokuto’s wide grin, his appreciation of Keiji’s vulnerability, and he gives a full bodied shudder, pumping his foreskin and squeezing precum out of his dick.

It’s not enough, though. There’s tension coiling in Keiji’s gut, and the smell of his own sex is beginning to fill the hot, thick air of the bathroom, still condensed with steam from the shower. He’s frustrated, though, and he sees himself frowning, hears Bokuto asking what he wants. His lips move wordlessly, a keening sound in the back of his throat, and it conveys what he’s not strong enough to ask for.

” _More...I need, more.”_

Keiji could get himself off like this, watching the tension in his body rise and fall as he pumps himself through his orgasm. It wouldn’t take much longer. But he wants something else. His free hand is roaming across his body, pinching the free skin, sliding over his hips and twisting to get at his ass, which rests on the towel. He can’t cup it, can’t squeeze it like he wants to - like he wants Bokuto to - but his middle finger slides between the crack, and Keiji slides even further down so that he can get at his ass from the front, pushing the flesh of his cheeks aside to circle at his entrance with a new kind of interest.

 _”Is this what you want?”_ he hears Bokuto ask, and he sees himself nod in response, sees his resolve fading in the quiver of his jaw and the glassiness of his eyes.

This is going to take some preparation.

He scrambles to a crouching position, limbs weak and aching as he moves towards the bathroom cabinet. There’s no lube - of course, he keeps that in his room - but his mother keeps tubes full of aloe vera, and he’s grateful as he pulls open the door, grabbing one from the back. She never keeps count; she won’t miss it. He moves back towards the mirror, practically crawling, and his eagerness shows in his sharp, close to frantic movements. If Bokuto were here, he might laugh at him.

There isn’t much space between the wall and the door, and when Keiji flips himself over, releasing the grip on his dick to maneuver himself, he has to curve his back. He puts himself on his knees, feet crammed against the wall either side of the mirror, and makes sure his legs are spread wide enough to see through. The angle makes his neck ache. Between his legs, he can see his dick, swollen and dark, hanging down, dripping onto the towel, and he grabs it again, squeezing the base to prolong his hardness.

He rests on on one elbow, the towel harsh against his prickling skin. The hand that was on his dick moves around, stretching to rub at the curve of his ass before squeezing once, teasing. Upside down, there’s barely any blood left to rush to his head, but Keiji sees his jaw set.

Keiji brings his arm back, reaching for the tube of aloe vera. He takes the cap off with his teeth and wobbles as he pours the gel onto his fingers, making sure to get a good coating. A lot of it goes on the towel, but he’s not too concerned. He’s going to have to wash it anyway, once he’s done. The smell of aloe vera is overpowering and sweet, and Keiji inhales deeply.

Keiji’s shoulder curves as he reaches back, clicking into place as he stretches, and a low groan escapes his mouth. His wet finger rubs at his ass crack, pausing to circle his entrance, aloe dripping from his fingers, and then he eases his index finger in slowly.

It’s tight, and he has to force himself to relax, exhaling slowly. He’s almost nervous, even though there’s no one there to see him but himself, and he barely can anyway, ass raised just out of sight. He can see a glimpse of his knuckle where he’s paused, adjusting to the sensation of his own finger inside of him. It’s bizarre, but he can feel himself opening, wanting more.

His fingers are fairly soft. Bokuto’s are squarer, and thicker, and it takes some concentration to imagine the differences in sensation. Keiji chews on the corner of his lip, sees his ass clench around his finger, and thinks about Bokuto kneeling above him, free hand on his back, pushing him into the ground. His fingertips might brush against the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair.

Keiji begins to wriggle his finger, feeling the muscles in his ass loosen as he breathes out soft sighs. He rests his head on his forearms, still looking between his legs at the finger which worms its way in deeper, and his leaking cock, aching for more. His ass is burning, and he pauses for a second, twisting his finger slightly until he groans.

The rings of his muscles open up, and begins to pump the finger slowly in and out of his ass. He doesn’t make much noise, only a soft sigh with each thrust, and he imagines Bokuto pushing him further.

_”I want to hear you, Akaashi. You sound as pretty as you look.”_

He pumps rougher, faster, curling his finger when it’s inside him to his second knuckle, and when he hits his prostate, he gasps. He shifts, moving himself so that he can hit that spot again and again, heat rushing through him, and his vision grows hazy, only focusing on his hand and the movement of his ass which jerks to meet his finger.

“Boku - to - san…” he whispers as he inserts his middle finger alongside his index finger. He feels stretched and open, and the crook of both his fingers has him arching his back even further.

The reality of the situation - that he’s alone, and there’s no one to help him - hits Keiji when he realises that he doesn’t have enough hands to stay in this position and pump his cock, which is pulsing with every brush of his prostate. He doesn’t want to give up just yet though, and keeps watching his fingers moving almost hypnotically. His eyesight is blurred enough for him to imagine someone else’s hands, and he finally begins to keen to the rhythm of his thrusts, whimpering against his forearm when he shakes his fingers inside his ass.

He wants this. He wants Bokuto inside of him, exploring every inch of him like it’s brand new territory even though he’s done it all before. He wants Bokuto to be as familiar with Keiji’s body as he is himself, to tease him until he’s desperate and then find just the right spot to break him.

Finally, he surrenders, taking his eyes off the mirror and bringing himself up, arching his back so he no longer needs to support himself and taking a grip on his dick. It takes him a second to find his prostate again, and when he does he strokes his dick in time with the stimulation, gasping in increasing volumes. Vivid colours spark behind his eyelids, and all he sees for a second is white, ears rushing, only able to feel the heat running through him and the ache of his muscles. Bokuto is beside him, building him up, and Keiji can’t get out the words but in his mind he’s moaning Bokuto’s name over and over.

Keiji’s mouth is open when he comes, semen spattering the shower door and dripping on the towel, but he doesn’t make any noise. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed with tension, and as he begins to relax, pulling out his fingers and drawing out the last of his orgasm with slow, shaking movements along his dick, he imagines Bokuto resting his chin on Keiji’s shoulders, whispering softly to him.

_”You looked great, Akaashi. You looked amazing.”_

Keiji’s thighs can’t support him anymore, and he slumps down, breathing heavily, staring at the mess he’s created on the shower door. His reflection in the glass his blurry, wobbling with his breathing, and he can’t see his face.

When he turns around, he sees in the mirror that he looks completely calm. Apart from his hair, which has dried at odd angles, and the dampness around his eyes, you’d never be able to tell what he’d just been doing. His eyes drift to his chest and stomach, still a deep rose colour and smeared with a few droplets of come. They reveal his recent loss of composure.

After a few minutes, Keiji feels as though he’s regained enough strength to pull himself to his feet. He grabs a wet sponge, wiping himself down and then dresses himself, shirt clinging to his damp chest. He pockets what’s left of the aloe vera tube, and bends to pick up the towel. It’s a mess, so he balls it up as he heads towards the laundry room, pushing it into the back of the machine and making sure that his gym kit covers the worst of it.

The rest of the evening passes slowly. Keiji’s too relaxed to do any work, flicks mindlessly through a book with the radio on in the background. He goes to bed before his parents return from work, and his dreams are hazy. He hears Bokuto’s voice, smells something sweet, and when he wakes up in the morning he has Bokuto’s name on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. I love Keiji. Do you love Keiji? Talk to me about it on [tumblr](http://fukurokeiji.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/kastronetic/)


End file.
